You’re just a stupid girl, Poppy. Gotte loves boys more.
It didn’t matter what Luke had said. Nothing any boy said bothered her anymore. She only felt down because she had an annoying bandage on her forehead and a sling on her arm. The yawning hole in her chest was because her shoulder hurt something wonderful. To her relief, the doctor said that a dislocated shoulder was a minor injury. She just needed to wear the sling for two weeks and be careful for a few weeks after that, and she’d be as good as new.
At least her shoulder would be.
Just the thought of wearing a sling for a couple of weeks made her testy. How could she work around the farm or help with Lily’s wedding or pick the cherries that would be ready to harvest next week? How could she gather eggs from their nice, new chicken coop with only one good hand?
Her heart slammed against her rib cage and made her wince.
Never mind. She’d let Rose gather the eggs.
The chicken coop reminded her of Luke Bontrager, and she’d rather not have that unpleasant experience every morning.
At least the chicken coop was still standing after last night. The troublemaker had come back and torn all their laundry from the line. That seemed to be his favorite thing to do. They’d have to start hanging their clothes to dry inside the house if they didn’t want double laundry every week.
Laundry. Another thing she couldn’t do with one hand.
A lump grew in the pit of her stomach. The harder she thought about it, the more sure she became that the vandalism was her fault. Whoever was making mischief on their farm did it because they hated her.
Unfortunately there were a lot of boys on that list, Luke Bontrager at the very top. He was the only boy who had ever been brave enough to tell her he hated her right to her face. Maybe he had been the vandal all along.
Poppy quickly squelched that thought. Luke had been the arrogant boy on the playground who wouldn’t let her play football, but he wasn’t vicious or vindictive. More recently, he’d saved her hand from a car window and pulled her out of a ditch. She’d spent two whole days building a chicken coop with him, and he’d eaten dinner at her house. He had even put his arm around her. Twice. Not on purpose, of course. Luke would never voluntarily touch someone he found so repulsive, but he’d done it because he thought he needed to save her, even if he hadn’t.
He might be aggravatingly confident, but he would never harm Poppy or her family. She knew that from the bottom of her heart.
The ache in her chest grew with every breath she took. It felt even worse when she breathed out.
Oh, sis yuscht. Was she crying? She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes and bit back whatever tears wanted to escape. Poppy didn’t cry. No matter what Luke or Dawdi or Urius Beachy thought, she was the tough one, the strong one, the one who watched out for her sisters when their parents had died. The one who would fight to defend her family, no matter what.
And she would never, ever, cry over a boy, especially a boy like Luke Bontrager, who yelled at her and told her she was weak and thought he was smarter than a doctor.
Crying over Luke was silly, and Poppy was not a silly girl.
She looked up as she heard the buggy come down the lane. Aunt B was back from the library. Poppy quickly dried any hint of tears from her eyes with the handkerchief from her apron pocket. Aunt B would not suspect a thing.
She paused and studied the handkerchief smeared with two or three spots of dried blood. Where had this come from? It wasn’t one of Rose’s embroidered ones.
Ach.
Luke had given it to her yesterday right before he’d started yelling. Her eyes stung with tears that she absolutely refused to shed.
Silly, silly girl.
Aunt B waved to Poppy and parked the buggy next to the barn. After unhitching Queenie, she led her to the little pasture on the far side of the barn, which gave Poppy time to compose herself. Aunt B need never know that Poppy had made a fool of herself over a boy.
A stupid, mean, conceited boy.
Aunt B came around from the side of the barn, retrieved some books from the buggy, and strolled to Poppy’s garden. “The tomatoes are coming along nice,” she said, being careful not to step on the dandelions or Poppy’s lettuce.
“I planted some cherry tomatoes this year. We might even get enough to sell.”
“Wonderful-gute. Every little bit helps if we want special M&M’s for the wedding.”
Poppy cracked a smile. “Special M&M’s?”
“I went online at the library. You can order M&M’s with the bride’s and groom’s names on them. With the M&M’s and the fireworks, Lily will be thrilled.”
“Then I’ll pray we get a gute tomato harvest. We’ve got to have M&M’s.”
Aunt B smirked. “Paul Glick will be righteously indignant about our wedding M&M’s. I can’t wait to see his face get all red and splotchy.”
“Will Paul be invited to the wedding?”
“We can’t very well leave him out. We’re inviting the whole district.”
Poppy pointed to the four books Aunt B cradled in her arm. “What did you get?”
After studying Poppy’s face for a minute, Aunt B plopped herself down in the dirt and rested the books in her lap. “I’m doing more research for my vampire book. I’m having real trouble getting it to flow. I don’t think Edgar and Isabella love each other that much, but I can’t make Isabella fall in love with the ogre because the ogre is in love with Isabella’s daughter. It’s a mess.”
Poppy smiled. “What books did you get?”
Aunt B held up the first one. “This is the best one of all. I found some money in it.”
“Money?”
Aunt B leafed through the book and pulled out three one-hundred dollar bills from between the pages. “I was the last person to check this out, and I accidentally stored some of my savings in here.”
Poppy laughed. “That’s wonderful-gute.” Aunt B didn’t trust her money in a bank, so she stored her excess cash all over the house. The Bible always had the most money in it. Aunt B thought her money was safer in the Good Book.
“I cast my bread upon the waters, and Gotte brought it back to me. But I’ll need to be more careful about where I put my money. Who knows how much I’ve lost.” She tapped her finger to her lips. “I think I better go back and check out a few more books.” She looked up at the sky. “Denki, Lord, for leading me to this book today. I’m really eager to get those fireworks.”
With the books still cradled in her lap, Aunt B leaned over and pulled a few weeds from Poppy’s neglected tomatoes. “We need to take a hoe to this.”
Poppy huffed out an exasperated breath. “I know. I can’t get ahead of the weeds. The cherries will be ripe, the honey is almost ready, and I’ve got to make bread for the fellowship luncheon next week.”
Aunt B lightly pinched Poppy’s earlobes with her fingers. “We’ll manage, little sister. Dan will help with the cherries and the honey. Your sisters can do the bread.”
“I can’t do hardly anything.”
Aunt B frowned. “Well, it’s not your fault. You’ve been mashed and squeezed and stretched harder than a cockroach in a washing machine. And it’s all Luke Bontrager’s fault. Every time that boy comes over, disaster strikes.”
Something sharp like a shard of broken glass lodged next to Poppy’s heart. She held her breath and tried to ignore it. Superior, ill-humored Luke had no power to upset her whatsoever. “Then we can all rejoice that he won’t be over again.”
Aunt B tilted her head to get a better look at Poppy’s face and propped her chin on her fist. She had a small tattoo of a pink flower on her wrist today. “What happened yesterday?”
Poppy drew her brows together. “I told you. I fished those four kittens out of the ditch and then Luke thought I needed to be fished out. I guess he pulled too hard.”
“Did he say something stupid?”
“He always says something stupid.”
“Something extra stupid???
?
Poppy ran her finger along the strap of the sling. “He said I’m weak.”
“That boy wouldn’t know sense if it kicked him in the head.”
Poppy swallowed hard as that shard of glass edged closer to her heart. “He said I’ll never be as good as a boy.” She tried to sound as if she couldn’t care less. Not even Aunt B would know how those words had sliced right through her heart. Poppy had never told her about Urius Beachy. She didn’t need to know about Luke. “He said he hates me.”
Aunt B pursed her lips. “Luke’s proud and hasty, but that’s harsh, even for him.”
“I said it first.” Once she admitted it, she realized how ashamed she was. As a Christian, she was supposed to love everyone. But that wasn’t the reason she felt so ashamed. She felt ashamed because it was a lie. She didn’t hate Luke Bontrager. The only thing she wasn’t sure about was to what extent she didn’t hate him.
Aunt B nodded. “That makes more sense now.”
Poppy massaged her forehead and groaned. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It sounds like he had it coming. Luke sticks his foot in his mouth so often, he should learn to hop.”
“I made him pretty mad.”
“It ain’t your fault, little sister.” Aunt B squeezed her ear again. “Ever since his dat’s cancer and his mamm’s accident, he’s been a little intense.”
When Luke was in seventh grade his dat had gotten a cancer that laid him low for almost two years. During that same time, Luke’s mamm lost her foot in a farming accident. Being the oldest sibling, Luke probably had a lot of worries fall on his shoulders.
“I shouldn’t have told him I hate him.”
Aunt Bitsy narrowed her eyes and leaned closer. “Do you?”
Poppy stared down at the freshly-turned dirt. “Nae.”
“I see.”
“He gave me a drill. I thought maybe we could be friends.”
Aunt B’s eyebrows were in danger of flying off her face. “A drill?”
“He said he wanted to teach me how to use it.”
“That’s no casual gift, especially for Luke,” Aunt B said. “He doesn’t like girls using drills.”
They turned and watched as Dan Kanagy, with a lovesick grin on his face, drove his open-air buggy down their lane.
Aunt B growled under her breath. “Doesn’t that boy have something better to do than come over all the time?”
Poppy giggled. “Probably not.”
“He eats all our food.”
Not as much as Luke had.
Dan parked his buggy next to the sidewalk and jumped down with a spring in his step. He was a boy in love, after all. “Poppy, Bitsy,” he called. He reached into his buggy and pulled out a basket. Poppy’s basket.
Ach.
She’d left it in Luke’s wagon.
Dan charged across the grass, and Aunt B stood so fast, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Dan Kanagy, don’t trample my dandelions. Have you no shame?”
Dan merely smiled, bent over, and gave Aunt B a peck on the cheek. “I’ve come to see Lily,” he announced.
“I never would have guessed,” Aunt B said.
He glanced doubtfully at Poppy. “Luke asked me to return this basket. He said you left it in his wagon.”
Poppy took the basket from Dan. The three uneaten loaves of bread were there as well as the loaf she had given Luke with the three pieces missing. He hadn’t eaten another bite. The drill was also missing. He didn’t like girls using drills. He didn’t like girls at all.
What did she care if Luke never wanted to eat her bread again? And what did she need with a drill? She’d gotten along just fine without one for twenty-one years.
He’d told her he was done with her.
Well, she was done with him.
Without another word, she turned her back on Dan and Aunt B and fled to the safety of the house.
No one would ever see her cry over a boy—especially the boy who hated her so much he wouldn’t even eat her bread.
She hated him right back.
Chapter Twelve
Luke had been frowning for four days straight. Thanks to Poppy Christner, the expression was probably etched into his face forever. It was bad enough that Poppy had ruined a perfectly gute Friday. Now she invaded his thoughts every waking hour, putting him in a bad mood on a permanent basis. Why did he let a stubborn tomboy irritate him like that?
He stood in the checkout line at Walmart, gripping the handle of his shopping cart as if trying to squeeze all the water out of it. He’d done the right thing, getting his money back for that drill. It was sitting in Walmart’s return bin, waiting to be put back on the shelf to be bought by some other boy who wanted to do something nice for someone who didn’t appreciate it. Dangerous tools should be kept out of Poppy’s hands. Someone could get hurt.
He squeezed the cart handle until his knuckles turned white. If only he could get those green eyes or that look she gave him out of his head—a look of pain so deep he could have gone swimming in it.
The line inched forward. A hundred registers at Walmart and only two were ever open. The slow line only served to compound Luke’s bad mood. His driver waited in the car, and the work piled up in his shop. How was he supposed to get any furniture built waiting in this eternally long line with Poppy sticking to his brain like a cocklebur?
He glanced to his right to see if there was another check stand open. Ach, du lieva. Poppy’s Aunt Bitsy stood not ten feet away looking at a display of nail polish. She shouldn’t have been there. Hadn’t anyone told her that Amish women didn’t wear nail polish? The second-to-last person Luke wanted to run into at Walmart was Bitsy Kiem. She’d probably give him a lecture right there in the checkout line, though Luke hadn’t done anything to deserve it. He’d gotten after Poppy for risking her life. Bitsy should thank him for talking some sense into her niece.
He crowded his cart into the person in front of him and ducked behind the tall aisle of candy that divided the checkout rows. He didn’t have to stoop very low to avoid being seen. If the cashier would go a little faster, Luke could get out of there without Bitsy being any wiser.
A voice from above his head gave him a start. “Afraid to show your face, Luke Bontrager?”
He looked up. Bitsy was poking her head over the display and looking at him as if she’d just caught a robber in the act. Had she scaled the candy display like a mountain? Or maybe she was standing in a cart. Bitsy never did anything predictable.
“Bitsy,” he said. “You’re going to fall.”
“I’m quite secure, unless this conveyor belt starts moving.” Narrowing her eyes, she propped her elbows on top of the display and smashed two packages of oatmeal cookies, individually wrapped. “You’ve really done it this time, Luke Bontrager.”
He pretended not to know what she was talking about. “I think you’d better get down before they ask you to leave the store.”
“Don’t play dumb with me. Poppy came home in quite a state the other day. Wet, bleeding, and limping. You are a very bad influence.”
Luke growled quietly. The cashier called someone for a price check. He’d never get out of here. “I told her not to go in the ditch. I got mad at her for risking her life. I’d think you’d be grateful.”
Bitsy looked up at the fluorescent lighting. “Dear Lord, these boys are as thick as the ice on Lake Michigan. Could You please send me something I can work with?”
Bitsy’s ingratitude made Luke feel especially petulant. “There is no ice on Lake Michigan. It’s summertime.”
She puckered her lips to one side of her face and looked up at the ceiling again. “Dear Lord, these boys are as thick as the scum on Cobbler Pond. What is an aendi to do?” She eyed Luke. “It wonders me why you told my Poppy you hate her.”
His stomach dropped to the floor. He shouldn’t have said that, no matter how angry he had been. “She said it first.”
“So now you’re in second grade?”
Luke pres
sed his lips together and glanced around him. Several people stared at the crazy Amish lady standing on the conveyor belt. Others watched Luke as if he might suddenly decide he hated all Walmart shoppers. Holding his head up high, he pushed his cart closer to the man in front of him. “It was nice to see you, Bitsy,” he said, lying through his teeth. Hopefully she’d take the hint that the conversation was over or at least take the hint to climb down from the counter.
She did neither. “I know your mamm raised you better than to yell at a girl.”
He slowly hissed the air from his lungs and gave up caring what anyone else in the store was thinking. Most people thought the Amish were strange anyway. “She could have died. A woman should never put herself in danger. A man should be the one to do it.”
Bitsy leaned farther over the display. The cookies flattened like pancakes. “Would you have let the kittens die?”
Luke didn’t want to answer that. Nobody looked kindly on the thought of dead kittens, except maybe Griff Simons.
Bitsy shook her head. “All this talk about man’s work and woman’s work is really starting to irritate me.”
To Luke’s relief, someone in Customer Service started yelling. “Ma’am, ma’am. You can’t be up there.”
Bitsy looked in the direction of whoever did the yelling, groaned, and disappeared from sight. Gute. Luke wasn’t really enjoying that conversation very much.
He started putting his purchases on the conveyor belt when Bitsy nudged her way up in his line, grabbed his shopping cart, and pulled it backward. Before he could stop her, she pulled the cart out of line and pushed it down the aisle with amazing speed. She didn’t run, but Bitsy Kiem could sure walk fast. Luke had no choice but to follow her. He’d spent a great deal of time filling that cart.
But he’d lost his place in line.